


Talk Movie to Me

by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Actor Bucky Barnes, Alexander Pierce is a grade A Ass (for about 5 seconds), Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clint is mostly in the background, I mean sort of?, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, intern entertainment reporter Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygreen/pseuds/leveragehunters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: James 'Bucky' Barnes is one of the stars of the hit new movie <i>Project Alpha</i>. When Alexander Pierce, asshole reporter extraordinaire, backs out of interviewing him, Bucky invites Pierce's intern, Steve Rogers, to take his place.  </p><p>  <i>"Damn it." He turned back to Bucky. He still looked vaguely terrified, but there was determination in the set of his jaw.  "With the proviso that I have no idea what I'm doing, okay."</i></p><p>  <i>"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." Bucky's grin was huge and his eyes were bright.  For the first time today he was actually enjoying himself. "I know it's your first time."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Movie to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this is silly. My only excuse is the absolute deluge of interviews we've been experiencing since the Civil War premiere. Also, please disregard that I know nothing of how things actually work in the world of interviewing celebrities or being a celebrity or, you know, celebrity things generally. *handwaves madly*

Bucky leaned back in his chair, denim clad legs stretched out in front of him, eyes half closed, sipping his water.  He let his hair flop forward over his face. _Project Alpha_ had premiered last night, which meant the cast had been trapped in this—admittedly extremely nice—hotel for the entire afternoon. But not together, oh no. That would have been fun. Instead they'd been penned up like zoo animals in their own separate rooms so droves of internet, magazine, newspaper, TV and, hell, probably public access reporters could be herded past them. Bucky was stuck on the buzzing edge of bored and wired, too much caffeine and too many repetitive, inane questions from repetitive, inane people.  He was pretty much ready for this day to be over.

He mustered up a flashing smile for the pair Katy was chivvying out the door as they looked back over their shoulders, then sighed as it closed behind them.

"Last ones coming up," she assured him, hurrying over to give him a critical once over.

"Thank Christ for that," he groaned, hauling himself to his feet to stretch his arms above his head, twisting his body to try and loosen tight muscles. "Where are they from?" All he wanted to do was go upstairs to his room, kick off his shoes, and lie flat on his face for about eight hours. 

"Channel Z, it's an internet magazine. Fairly popular." Katy was tugging on his shirt, fussing over him, and he obediently bent forward so she could poke at his hair. He'd long since learned it was simpler to comply than to argue with her.

When she stepped back, raking him with a critical eye, he raised his eyebrows and held out his arms. "Well, am I respectable?"

"I'm your publicist, Mr Barnes, not a miracle worker," she replied tartly, but her eyes were fond and she shooed him back to his chair. Bucky settled back down, making himself comfortable as Katy ushered three people inside. The look she shot him was all the warning he needed that he was not going to like whatever was coming next.

She was right.

The tall, built blond with the blue eyes and the biceps was never going to be a problem, the scruffy cameraman looked like every other cameraman he'd ever seen. But the third. The third was Alexander Pierce, second string reporter with delusions of grandeur and asshole extraordinaire, and Bucky's eyes narrowed.

"Barnes." Pierce's voice was slimy, nasal, and it made Bucky's hackles rise.

"Nice to see you, too, Pierce," Bucky replied flatly. "Didn't know they had you covering the entertainment beat."

Pierce's nostrils flared. "Still making cotton candy Pablum for the masses?"

Bucky answering smile was all sharp angles. "What can I say, at least it's an _honest_ living."

Jaw working, Pierce's eyes narrowed, swinging to glare at the two men who'd accompanied him, then his gaze swept around the room before once more landing on Bucky. "I'm not doing this," he said. "You have always been beneath me." He dropped a set of index cards on the floor, turned on his heel, and walked out.

Katy rolled her eyes at the ridiculous dramatics and the two men who'd accompanied Pierce stared after him. "Well, at least this time it was him and not me," Bucky muttered under his breath, and started to stand, figuring that at least his day was over early. Not his problem if Channel Z, which was about the stupidest name Bucky had ever heard, didn't get their interview.  He was interrupted by six foot plus of blond-haired, blue-eyed, chiselled perfection, with the most earnest expression he'd ever seen, striding towards him. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know why he said that."

"I do," Bucky replied, not about to explain five years of ugly history to a stranger, no matter how attractive, especially not one who'd arrived with Alexander Pierce. "Don't worry about it. Pierce is an asshole."

Blue-eyes looked like he wanted to agree, but didn't quite dare. His lips thinned with anger, though, as he said, "I am going to worry about it. It was a shitty thing to say."

Bucky settled back into his chair as he studied the other man. Who seemed genuinely angry. Sincere. It was a novel experience. "What's your story? You a reporter, too?"

"Graphic designer, actually, for Channel Z," he replied, then winced. "They have a cross-department internship program, so I, ah, signed up, wanted to see what it was like on the reporter side of things. They assigned me to Pierce."

"My condolences."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm kind of rethinking some of my life choices."

"Look, intern or not, do you want to do the interview?" It surprised even Bucky when he said it, the words bubbling up out of some mingled desire to do the right thing, the knowledge that it would piss Pierce off, no matter how much he claimed this was all beneath him, and the fact that this guy really was exceptionally attractive.

"Uh." His eyes widened, making him look vaguely terrified, sort of like someone had hit him in the back of the head with a shovel. "What?"

The cameraman who'd accompanied them spoke up. "Do it. It could be both our asses if we don't come back with something. Barnes is the last one we need for the whole set."

"Clint." Blue-eyes whipped around to stare at the cameraman. "Really?"

"Could be," Clint replied.

"Damn it." He turned back to Bucky. He still looked vaguely terrified, but there was determination in the set of his jaw.  "With the proviso that I have no idea what I'm doing, okay."

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." Bucky's grin was huge and his eyes were bright.  For the first time today he was actually enjoying himself. "I know it's your first time."

Bucky's teasing seemed to settle him. The blue eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of amusement lurking in their depths. "Very funny."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to call you. Mr Barnes?"

Mr Barnes. Jesus. "Call me Bucky," he said, a little surprised at himself, but he shrugged. Normally, he went with James, but this wasn't exactly normal and there was something about this guy.

"Bucky, okay. Steve Rogers." Steve held out his hand.

Bucky was charmed despite himself. No one ever offered to shake his hand at one of these things. "I'm not calling you Mr Rogers," Bucky warned, and he shook Steve's hand, maybe lingering a little longer than was necessary. Steve didn't seem to mind.

"Good thing, since I left my cardigan at home," Steve replied dryly, and it startled a quick grin out of Bucky.

Clint began setting up his camera while Steve picked up Pierce's cards from the floor. Bucky could see his hands were shaking slightly; someone else might not have noticed, but Bucky had an eye for people.  "Take your time," he said. "I've got nowhere else to be and you're my last one of the day. Katy, we can have the room for however long, right?" Katy checked her tablet, then nodded. "So, yeah, no hurry. Everyone gets ten minutes, but your clock won't start until you're ready."

Steve's eyes were warm, his smile soft, when he looked up from the cards. "Thanks."

It woke an answering warmth in Bucky, one he wasn't entirely comfortable with, and he muttered, "No problem," back at him, started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. His attention was pulled back to Steve when he made a disbelieving noise. "What?"

"These questions are terrible."

"Yeah?"

Steve cleared his throat. "Can I see your cool face? What animal would you be? What's your workout routine? Did you have to go on a special diet? I am not asking you these," he said and dropped them in the trash can.

Bucky snorted. "I've answered those about eight times already."

Steve stared at him. "How do you not go insane?"

"All part of the job, Stevie. All part of the job."

"What, being insane?" he shot back, then snapped his mouth closed, looking surprised at himself.

Delighted, Bucky replied, "I hope that's one of your questions, because I'm starting the clock."

Clint started filming and Steve's eyes went wide as he hurried over to sit in the chair across from Bucky. Bucky could see he was nervous and did his best to project calm reassurance as Steve introduced himself and James 'Bucky' Barnes, star of the hit movie _Project Alpha_. 

And Steve, who had nothing prepared, who had no experience, didn't start out well. He asked some inane questions, "Did you enjoy making the movie? Was it fun being able to play someone with a skewed moral compass? What did you enjoy the most?" Bucky tried to give more thoughtful answers than he would normally give to something like these, because Steve was trying, he was listening, he actually seemed to care about the answers.  And honestly, they were no worse than some he'd been asked by professionals.

Steve was charming and funny, once he relaxed. They talked, and it really was more like _talking_ , like hanging out with someone you've just met, learning who they are, because Steve had no idea how to interview. Steve had no tricks, no techniques. He wasn't trying to elicit a reaction or make himself look good. He genuinely wanted to know about Bucky. He'd ask a question, then follow it up with an observation that showed he wasn't just listening, he was _understanding_.

It was...actually pretty nice.  Bucky found himself forgetting this was supposed to be an interview and just enjoyed himself.

When their ten minutes were up Katy briefly made eye contact, one eyebrow raised, and tapped her watch. Bucky lifted one hand, below the camera's range, indicating it was fine, to let it run.

Steve laced his ankles together, one elbow braced on his knee, leaning forward. He wasn't posing for the camera, seemed to have forgotten it was there. His blond hair was fluffing at the front where he'd run his fingers through it and his top button had come undone.  Bucky had to pull his eyes away from the skin at the hollow of his throat.  

"How familiar were you with the history of your character, Winter, in the comics?"

"When I got the role? Not at all," Bucky admitted, leaning forward himself, smiling a little ruefully. "But when I found out how much history there was—did you know he's been around for thirty years?—I figured I'd better learn everything I could."

"Was there anything special that stuck with you?"

"His mom. It seems like it's pretty unusual for comic book heroes to have their mothers be important in their lives, but not this guy, she was a big part of it, she's the one he turned to when his powers started showing up, when he had a moral dilemma." Bucky was enthusiastic, gesticulating for emphasis as he explained, wanting to roll his eyes as Steve's smile got wider, clearly amused, but he resisted the temptation. "It was an unusual twist on what you usually see."

Steve nodded. "Did you wish they'd captured some of that in the movie?"

"It would have been interesting," he admitted. "But the movie takes a different direction from the comics. It's hard to get thirty years of story into two and a half hours."  Bucky watched an expression flit across Steve's face, a flash in his eyes, followed by an almost imperceptible shake of his head.  He paused, giving Steve a serious look. "Whatever question you just thought of?" he said. "You should ask it."

Steve studied him, obviously uncomfortable, and Bucky gave him an encouraging smile. It was a new experience, urging someone to ask a question.  "In the movie a lot of your character's actions were motivated by the death of his mother," Steve finally said, then paused, choosing his words with care, and Bucky could see him hesitate. "Your performance seemed very raw, very passionate. Was there anything specific that drove you?"

Bucky knew from the way Steve was watching him that he suspected what the answer was; it hadn't been a secret, what had happened. And he knew Steve was giving him a choice. Bucky could feed him a canned response, something trivial. Steve didn't want to hurt him, Bucky knew it with a bone deep certainty, had only asked the question because Bucky had pushed him, and that woke a strange ache inside him.  All the reporters who'd interviewed him, the people with years on the beat, none of them had been paying enough attention to _Bucky_ to make the connection _._ It didn't take him long to decide.  

"I lost my mother just before I got the part," he said, speaking slowly. "It was something we had in common, me and Winter.  And I think, somewhere in the back of my head, I felt like if he could find the people who killed his mother, I could know for sure that my mom was at peace." Bucky managed a small, self-deprecating smile, but his skin felt too small, like it couldn't contain his emotions.

Below the range of the camera, Bucky felt Steve's hand brush his, felt fingers briefly close around his and squeeze gently, before slipping away. It was unexpected, startling, but it grounded him, gave him something else to focus on, and he was able to pull everything back inside.  "It's just one of those things, you know?" Steve was nodding, eyes gentle. "It's not real, but sometimes it can feel like it's real, and I think that's what came through in Winter."

There was a moment of silence when Bucky stopped talking, he and Steve just looking at each other. Bucky could still feel the touch of Steve's fingers on his. Steve cleared his throat and glanced away, deliberately breaking eye contact.  Bucky didn't know whether or not to be grateful. "Okay, time for one last question?"

Bucky waved a hand, inviting him to go ahead.

" _Can_ I see your cool face?"

Bucky blinked once in surprise, then tipped his head back and laughed, warmed right through. Steve grinned at him.  Schooling his features into the most ridiculous, scowling, brows-furrowed, eyes-narrowed, over the top expression he could muster, Bucky complied.  "Cool enough for you?"

"Perfect. Thanks, Bucky." He turned to Clint. "I think we're done?"

Clint lowered the camera and the look in his eyes would have been impressed if Clint hadn't been a cynical bastard who'd been in this business for way too many years. He did, however, give a nod of approval. "Yeah, I'd say we're better than done. Nice job, Rogers," he said, and bent to start packing up his camera.

Steve flushed and Bucky watched the pink crawl over his skin in fascination. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually seen someone blush. It was...adorable was the only word for it.

Steve slid forward in his chair until his knees were almost touching Bucky's. "Sorry," he said quietly,

"Don't be. I didn't have to answer you."

"Still—"

Bucky cut him off. "Then make it up to me. Stay and have a drink with me."

Steve's eyes went wide in surprise and he glanced over his shoulder at Clint. "I should—"

"I'm pretty sure I can get myself safely back to the office, Rogers," Clint said, grinning at him. "Stay, drink, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"From what I hear that's a very short list," Steve shot back, and Clint's grin got wider. Steve covered his face with his hand. "And I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yup," Clint replied and sketched a lazy salute to the room as he left.

Steve dropped his hand to smile helplessly at Bucky. "I guess I'm staying."

Bucky took a minute to sort things out with Katy, who seemed happy to escape for the day, then crooked a finger at Steve.  "I've got a room upstairs, if that's okay with you? If we go anywhere else, we're going to get interrupted."

"Your adoring public?"

Bucky could hear the faintest thread of nervousness under the teasing in Steve's voice, and he nudged him with his shoulder. "Exactly."

It got him a warm smile in return. "Works for me."

"Come on." With Steve's shoulder brushing his, they headed towards the elevator.

There was a worrying warmth lodged in his chest, centred on Steve. For the first time in his life Bucky was actually glad that Alexander Pierce existed, because if he didn't, he wouldn't have met Steve.  It was a strange and uncomfortable thought, one he was going to do his best not to have again. And besides—he glanced sideways at Steve, met bright blue eyes looking back at him—right now he had far more important things to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
